


Fathers

by jazzonia



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-10
Updated: 2009-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzonia/pseuds/jazzonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of three fathers: George Kirk, Sarek, and Leonard McCoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathers

**George Kirk**

On the sixteenth anniversary of his father's death (and his birth, but that was less important), Jim Kirk decided to get the fuck out of Riverside.

He'd run away for short stretches, sure, but there had always been something luring him back. Food, or getting out of the rain, or his damned dog -- hell, even Sam.

But the dog was dead, Sam might as well have been, and dammit, no sixteen-year-old in his right mind just took the shit that assholes like Frank dealt out. They talked back, hit back. And while 'in his right mind' might not always apply, he was Jim fucking Kirk, and Kirks were not cowards.

So Jim waited until enough beer cans littered the floor that Frank couldn't hear him, pried up his floorboard to grab his stash of credit chips, and stuffed a change of clothes into a rucksack Sam left behind.

Then he walked into the living room.

"The fuck you want?" Frank grunted, not lifting his eyes from the TV.

Jim grabbed the motorbike keys from their dusty hook. He had tested his dad's old bike earlier, making sure it still started and had enough gas to make it past the county border. His dad had taken good care of it, and even a decade and a half since he'd last touched it, the bike had come to life under Jim's hands as if it had been waiting for him all along.

"Where are you going?" Frank said as Jim stalked past. He followed Jim out the living room, down the back steps, and stood with his arms crossed as Jim threw open the barn's doors.

"Is this fucking joke?" he snorted as Jim, rucksack on and boots laced, took the tarp off his dad's old bike. It started easily, and Jim was able to straddle the seat and kick back the stand before Frank got hold of his shoulder.

"Get inside now and maybe I'll let you be able to sit by Thursday."

Jim threw his elbow back, hard enough to dislodge Frank's grip, but not to inflict damage. He turned his head, looked Frank square in the eye, and smiled.

"Have a nice life."

Then Jim turned his gaze forward and took off, kicking up dirt and gravel and not looking back.

Riverside was only a cluster of grain silos and low buildings on the horizon when Jim was finally able to think again. He slowed down a little, stretched his neck, and turned his eyes skyward.

"Thanks, dad."

 

**Sarek**

His son's parting words still hung in the air when the head of the Vulcan High Council turned to face Sarek.

"It is highly unorthodox for any student to even question his or her acceptance, much less turn it down. Sarek, do you have any explanation for your son's flippancy?"

Words failed him. It was clear that Spock had made an unprecedented decision, but his actions could hardly be considered flippant. Well, the glint in his son's eyes made it apparent that 'Live long and prosper' was meant as more of a jibe than a formality toward the Science Academy council. But flippant?

"Sarek?"

He cleared his throat. "If I may, on what basis do you characterize Spock's parentage as a handicap?"

The Science Minister blinked. "I was referring to his human mother."

Sarek inclined his head. "Yes; my wife."

Nobody spoke.

"I was under the impression that the Vulcan Science Academy did not engage in species-based discrimination. I should hope that Spock's admission was based upon his own merit, and not influenced by this so-called handicap. To undermine Spock's successes by implying that his parentage is somehow flawed is... highly illogical."

Sarek stood, raised his chin, and said, as venomously as he dared, "Live long and prosper."

His steely glare reminded the Council just who had raised the boy with the audacity to turn them down.

 

**McCoy**

"Dammit," McCoy muttered, glaring at the PADD in his hands as if he could change the numbers it was displaying. After his monthly dues on his med school loans, mortgage (why the fuck was he still paying that?), child support, alimony (bullshit), and rent on this shitty apartment, he didn't even have enough credits left to buy food for the rest of the month.

However, it was just enough to buy Joanna's birthday presents.

McCoy knew, then, what he had to do. This month's rent plus food money would be just enough to get Jo's gifts and pay for his shuttle fare to San Fransisco. He'd been toying with the idea of Starfleet for a couple weeks now, but hadn't really considered it a real possibility because of Jo. But, fuck, the finalized divorce papers he'd signed yesterday made it very clear that he wasn't gonna see her any time soon.

A few hours and half a dozen calls later, McCoy was stumbling onto a shuttle to California.

He had managed to get the security deposit back on his apartment despite giving such short notice (the damn landlord had always wanted to get rid of him, anyway). It wasn't hard to decide where the extra credits would go.

On the way to the shuttle he'd bought Joanna the gifts he'd been planning on, plus a "So You Want to Be a Doctor? Deluxe Starter's Kit for Under-Fourteens" that he was _absolutely not allowed to buy, Leonard_ ; a Starfleet Juniors tee shirt; and five hours of pre-paid holovid credit. He'd see his little girl no matter what the lawyers said, dammit. All of these would be delivered to Jo in time for her birthday, plus a little something extra that an old buddy back in Atlanta was acquiring for him.

The elation he'd felt when purchasing gifts for his little girl was erased the second some bitch had discovered him in the bathroom of that flying death trap. She all but shoved him into a seat, and he found himself muttering to the kid next to him without realizing it. Next thing he knew, he was sharing the last booze he had to his name, introducing himself, and really not minding how Kirk didn't move his knee away when it touched McCoy's during takeoff.

McCoy -- or _Bones_ , as the kid (Jim?) would say -- allowed himself a little smile, and went back to imagining the look on Jocelyn's face when McCoy's med school buddy delivered a puppy to the birthday girl.


End file.
